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Marco Pochestorie 2013 Flickr

Marco Pochestorie 2013

I’m gearing up for my favorite Holy Day and as such I’m thinking about the Halloween treat I will have for everyone on the 31st of this month. I wasn’t able to do my 31 horror shorts as I’ve done in the past, or even 13 little ditties that make one listen closely for the things that go bump in the night, but I’m committed to having something for you all on one of my favorite days of the year (my birthday has to rank #1 of course). My collection of shorts hold all that I have done with regards to the macabre, but there are a few tales tucked into the ramblings of my blog.  There are some I read fondly and other’s I winced at with not quite shame, but the understanding that I’ve grown leaps and bounds from who I was when I first took up this endeavor to share all the cluttered bits of prose that knock about in my head.

I enjoy exploring the horror of loss, the agony of realizing the world we live in is not a safe one, and the monster you feared under your bed may be the person sitting across from you at the dinner table. There are ghosts, actually a great deal of my stories deal with the dearly (or not so dearly) departed, but there is often more tragedy than fear in the tales. I love to be scared, but I think at the heart of why I enjoy horror is the idea that it’s not the dark I’m afraid of but what lives there instead.

So I’m letting all those thoughts settle and I’m going back to reread what I’ve done. I’m hoping a moment of inspiration will cease me and I will be filled with the spirit of clarity, and write a story worthy of my most favoritiest day of the year. Until then, enjoy one of the stories I found while knocking about the blog.

Do you have to go?

Unedited and copyrighted by Janet Eckford

“Do you have to go?”

“You know I do.”

“Why does it always come so soon?”

He gathered her in his arms and placed a gentle kiss upon her head. It was too soon but time was never on their side. Instead they took what they could when they can.

“When will you be back,” she whispered softly with her head pressed against his heart.

“Not until the time is just right,” he replied in a dejected tone.

“You could stay if you wanted.”

He’d become accustomed to this argument that had no real end. She knew that he couldn’t stay and their special kind of forever was never guaranteed. Releasing her from his tight hold he watched as her mournful expression transformed into one of resignation. He didn’t have to tell her what she already knew.

“You have to go,” she sighed and gently cupped his chin with her icy fingers.

“And so do you,” he replied.

There was no grief as her touch became the faintest of caresses. His heart had long ago learned to wall itself away from sadness as she slowly faded away. He didn’t shed a tear as he stared at her silent grave in the cold night because he’d learned long ago it was wasted for those that love the dead.

 

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